Shocked Monks and Savant Dogs

Michael Lynn

Machine created by Nollett to produce friction, Public Domain

Long before Carl Sagan, Neil deGrasse Tyson, and Bill Nye the Science Guy a wide array of efforts existed to help popularize science with the result that scientific discovery often shaped daily life and speech. When John Adams arrived in France to take over as the new United States ambassador from the exceedingly popular Benjamin Franklin, he had some difficult shoes to fill. He could, however, count on his scientific knowledge to help him. At a dinner party soon after Adams arrival, one of the “most elegant ladies at the table” rather daringly asked if he knew (because his name was related to Adam) how the first couple figured out how to sleep together. Adams was flustered beyond belief but managed to come up with a response to her question by making an analogy to science. “I rather thought it was by instinct, for there was a physical quality in us resembling the power of electricity or of the magnet, by which when a pair approached within striking distance they flew together like the needle to the pole or like two objects in electric experiments.” “Well,” the lady responded, “I know not how it was, but this I know – it is a very happy shock.” In the eighteenth century, science was an important topic of conversation, as poor Adams found out, a form of entertainment, and a way of providing edification for people willing to shell out money to attend public lectures or buy instruments and books. Public lecture courses, some one-night only affairs and others more extensive courses lasting weeks or even months, had an enduring popularity across Europe. There were many opportunities to learn about science. Some of the best-known and often-repeated displays centered on electricity. In April 1746, for example, Jean-Antoine Nollet, a professor of experimental physics and member of the French Royal Academy of Sciences, transmitted an electrical shock through 180 of King Louis XV’s royal guards while the King and his entourage looked on. Nollet later performed a similar experiment on 200 Carthusian monks, all “volunteers” recruited from a nearby monastery. The King, who had no special love for the church, apparently watched this experiment with particular glee.

Jean-Antoine Nollet painting, Public Domain

This launched something of a rage for shocking lines of people to see how long a line could be established. The winner managed to shock a chain of people almost a mile long. Nicolas-Philippe Ledru took his version of this experiment directly to the people by using audience members as subjects. Some savants argued whether or not eunuchs could be electrified in the same way. Three of the king’s musicians, all castrati, underwent a series of tests. Much to everyone’s satisfaction, they jumped just as much as the other test subjects. In some cases, popularizers designed special experiments just for their female audience. In one of his more popular experiments, Nollet hung a small boy from the ceiling by silk cords and electrified him by means of an electrical machine, causing his body to act as a magnet. Various objects such as bits of metal and paper, placed within his reach, leapt toward his outstretched hand. Frequently, Nollet hung a young girl alongside the boy and encouraged her to reach out and touch him or, better yet, to give him a kiss. He would then dim the lights in the room and the boy and the girl, facing each other, moved close enough together for sparks to pass from one to the other. Nollet believed that women particularly enjoyed viewing this experiment, nicknamed the “electric kiss.” Ledru, a scientific popularizer who went by the stage name Comus (after the Roman god of revelry) performed similar experiments on people. Ledru, who had medical aspirations, later decided to open a clinic designed to help those deemed incurable by the medical establishment. He essentially performed rudimentary electroconvulsive therapy. Some popularizers of science put a heavy emphasis on the spectacular. The experimental physicist Perrin, who worked in Paris during the second half of the eighteenth century, gave lectures on scientific topics to wide acclaim. His success as a popularizer rested largely on the strength of his dog, a spaniel that could “read, calculate, solve problems, and do other physics tricks and games.” Perrin’s “little savant dog” played a key role in the evening’s entertainment. Perrin thought women particularly applauded this multi-talented animal that could read both French and English in additional to his abilities as an experimental demonstrator. “O happy century,” Perrin wrote, “where Science/Is an amusement for everyone!”

Scientic encyclopedia, Public Domain

One of Perrin’s rivals in the Parisian theaters was Giuseppi Pinetti, described as a magician but self-styled as a professor of amusing physics. He performed experiments such as the “philosophical mushroom” and the “magic table” interspersed with procedures for changing the color of a rose, doing mathematical calculations with cards, and conjuring an egg from under a goblet. He even published his tricks in a book titled Amusemens physique. Another theatrical lecture, designed to explain a complex phenomenon for a general public, was Pilâtre de Rozier's description of Newtonian gravity given at his scientific club, the Musée de Monsieur. He equated gravity with love, claiming that just as men are drawn to certain women, astronomical bodies undergo gravitational attraction. "Assume, ladies," he wrote, "that I am between two of you; each is worthy to be loved, but nevertheless my heart must choose. Well, attraction might draw me more to the lady on my right than to the one who honors me by being on my left; I follow my leaning, I obey my inclination, I abandon myself to the love which she inspires in me; that, ladies, is attraction." Although the exact Newtonian nature of this explanation seems to have been lost, there is no denying that Pilâtre de Rozier spoke directly to the men and women in a very engaging and dramatic manner. The popularity of science in the eighteenth century illustrates both the willingness of people in that age to grapple with new discoveries and the ability of savants to disseminate knowledge to people who may or may not have had much education. The broad spectrum of the audience, men and women from just about all social levels, demonstrates just how popular science could be.

Michael R. Lynn is a Professor of History at Purdue University, North Central. He writes frequently on French culture and history.

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